


No Casey Left Behind

by dracofiend



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 10:30:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracofiend/pseuds/dracofiend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Casey <i>hates</i> being left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Casey Left Behind

“Hey, Casey! Buddy, sorry I missed your call—I just—”

“Listen up,” Casey cut in with a snarl, shoving his face right into Chuck’s. His eyes were blue vortices of fury. Chuck inhaled, nostrils flaring. “I am _not_ your _buddy_ , got it? And I am fucking tired of being left behind every damn time you get it into your numbskull head”—here he jammed the barrel of his scanner gun hard to Chuck’s temple—“that you know better. Because you don’t.” He emphasized this last point with another thrust of the gun.

Chuck winced. “Ah, look, don’t worry, Sarah was there—gah! Okay, okay, clearly that was the wrong thing to say just now,” he finished hastily as Casey’s eyes suddenly widened, as if to accommodate the tiny fists that would be popping out of each pupil to punch Chuck in the face.

“Whoa, what’s up, John?” came Morgan’s voice from somewhere behind Casey. “You guys doing some more customer service training or what? John, hey, I gotta tell ya, your track record speaks for itself when it comes to cracking down on those shoplifters but I think the folks who _don’t_ steal from us should get the service with a smile, you know?”

Chuck looked beyond the increasingly bunchy shoulders of Major Casey as Morgan, who’d been obscured by Casey’s bulk, finally appeared.

“Here, let me help you out with that…” Morgan proceeded to reach up to Casey’s elbow, where it remained cocked, apparently scanning Chuck’s brain for signs of life. “Just—lower your weapon—” Morgan tugged with one hand, then two, then hiked himself up. His Vans dangled in the air for a moment. Casey’s arm didn’t budge.

“Hey, uh, Morgan?” Chuck piped up, trying not to breathe too hard in Casey’s face lest Casey turn away from glaring at Morgan and back to him. “Maybe now’s not such a good time, huh? Me and, uh, John are working some things out, you know?” Chuck tried to grin as Morgan looked over at him. He dropped off Casey’s elbow and stepped back.

“Oh yeah?” Morgan asked with apparent faux nonchalance. “Super secret guy stuff, huh?” Inwardly, Chuck groaned. He knew Morgan had been feeling neglected lately. What he hadn’t known, though, was that Casey seemed to be feeling the same.

“You could call it that,” Casey growled, “if Bartowski here weren’t such a little girl. Now beat it, Grimes.”

Morgan put his hands in his pockets and prepared to take issue. Chuck hurried to intervene before things got _really_ out of hand and gave a shallow, oddly high-pitched laugh. “Heh heh, yeah, what a kidder. Morgan? Hey, would you mind, pal? I swear this’ll just take a minute and then I’ll be right over.”

Morgan looked up at him, then back to Casey, and then back to him. Defeat and perhaps a tiny bit of resentment shone in his eyes. “Yeah, all right, whatever.” He waved a hand at Chuck as he turned away.

“Morgan, hey—” Chuck started, taking a step toward Morgan’s slumped and retreating back, but Casey stopped him cold, bumping him hard with an expanse of pure chest.

“I don’t think so,” Casey said, in a voice like fresh asphalt. “You don’t realize the gravity of your situation.”

“Oh, no, I think I do,” Chuck answered wearily. “See, I haven’t missed three straight game nights in a row since I got chicken pox in second grade, and this time I don’t have a contagious disease to blame it on—”

“That can be arranged,” Casey interrupted. The little ridges over his eyebrows were rising to astonishing heights, and suddenly, Chuck became acutely aware of the danger he was in. Casey was seriously angry. Not just regular, wake-up-and-get-out-of-bed angry, but seriously. Pissed. Off.

Chuck held up his palms. Or, he tried to, but Casey was still looming so close that Chuck ended up awkwardly patting his pectoral area. Which was, he thought in a distant part of his mind, even huger than it looked. “Casey, Casey, I get it,” he started in his most placating voice. “I get that you’re upset because I high-tailed it over to the Wienerlicious again without notifying you, but, you know, y’are kinda scary,” Chuck let his eyes go round with sincerity, “and Sarah’s, well…she’s easy to talk to—”

Casey’s murderous grunt instantly translated into _And I’m not?_ in Chuck’s brain.

“No, no, I’m not saying that,” Chuck said quickly, tilting his head. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. What I’m saying is…” He trailed off, gazing into Casey’s big mad eyes.

They narrowed without warning. “I know what you’re saying,” Casey gritted out. “You’re saying you trust her.” He lowered his voice further. “Because you think she’s _better_ at what. She. Does.”

“I—no, I definitely do not—”

“Well here’s a news flash for ya,” Casey rolled right over Chuck’s spluttering objection and planted two fingers into the dip of Chuck’s chest. “She _isn’t._ So you better not be running over there anymore without my say-so.”

“What? But she’s my girlfriend! Well I mean, my pretend gnmmffnd.” His eyes shot open as Casey’s hand clamped over his mouth.

“Moron,” Casey muttered, pulling his hand off. He stared at Chuck, a curl to his lip. Chuck stared back, tensed up in anticipation of Casey’s next move. Which, it turned out, was to let his features slide into a calculating, then blank, expression.

“Casey…?” Chuck asked slowly. The guy was big, but he wasn’t dumb. The slight curvature of Casey’s lip now had Chuck worried. It meant Casey was about to throw down a particularly stinging sarcastic remark, or that Chuck was in major trouble. Or both.

“You ever wonder how Sarah ended up here?” Casey asked. The question was abrupt, but Casey’s tone was smooth. Chuck felt like he was walking into a trap for sure.

“Um, no…?”

Casey leaned in, putting his mouth right next to Chuck’s left ear. “Why do you think she was chosen? For you?” Casey murmured.

Chuck shivered. Goosebumps sprouted all up and down his arms. Perfectly natural, when someone breathes all hotly into your ear.

“Uh, I guess…” Chuck swallowed. If he said what he was thinking, which was that Sarah was the CIA’s top spy, would that get him throttled to unconsciousness on the spot? “…I guess she, uh, had all the necessary qualifications?” Chuck winced as he sort of squeaked the last word. Casey had exhaled right then, made a soft _hmmm_ right along Chuck’s skin.

“She set records at Langley,” Casey went on in that low, dark voice. It was incredible, Chuck couldn’t help thinking even as he stood, dazed and riddled with goosebumps all over, that the man’s voice _by itself_ was like a gigantic hot knife through butter. Menacing and velvety and lethal all at once. It wasn’t fair.

“Oh…oh yeah?” Chuck gulped. Casey was very, very still, and _right there._

“Yeah. In a little something called inducement,” Casey answered. The rough of his cheek actually grazed Chuck’s stressed-out face for an instant as Casey grinned. “But you know what, Chuck?”

Casey paused, as if waiting for a response. Chuck had no choice but to offer an interrogative whimper.

“At Fort Meade, so did I.” Another measured growl, which was so heated, so so heated, right against the edge of his ear, and Chuck flinched. Squeezed his eyes shut hard.

When he opened them a few long seconds later, Casey was gone. Chuck pressed a palm to his chest. Still ticking. Good. At about a hundred miles an hour.

He drew in a deep breath, and went to go look for Morgan.


End file.
